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Realistic or Modern 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰 — cs

OOC
Here
erzulie

erzulie

cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
WHERE THE CARNATIONS GROW
© REVERIEE


NAME:
NICKNAME:
D.O.B:
AGE: 21+ (keep in mind these are newly graduated students of NYU)
GENDER:
ORIENTATION:

APPEARANCE:
FACECLAIM: (optional)

PERSONALITY: a paragraph or more
WHAT'S THEIR GREATEST FEAR? a brief explanation, if you have multiple dont be afraid to add those -- there can be more than one ofc.

HISTORY: can be as short or long as you’d like
 
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Lucas Chambers






























♡coded by uxie♡


































l.w.f.







the artist.

and into the forest i go, to lose my mind and find my soul







































  • requisite.







    full name

    Lucas Wesley Francis-Chambers






    age

    Twenty-three (dec 5)






    gender

    cis-male; he/him






    sexuality

    closeted bisexual






    occupation

    pizza delivery driver






    degree

    Bachelor’s in fine arts















    visage.



    scroll




    height

    5’9”






    hair

    A neglected mop of hair that’s often greasy and unkempt; a dark shade of brown that resembles a honey-like tone in the sunlight. Lucas has a grown-out, curly shag cut that sits on his shoulders. Sometimes he has subtle facial hair growing in.






    eyes

    Round and downturned; a deep brown, nearly black.






    skin

    Pale due to a lack of sunlight; some scars and blemishes.






    build

    Slightly underweight; thin and lanky; a slouched posture.






    dist. features

    A stick-and-poke tattoo of a star on his right wrist.






    style

    Baggy secondhand clothes, worn-out converse, cuffed jeans, usually with an oversized button-up or jacket layered over a t-shirt.






    misc. details

    overall softer features, an aquiline nose, can’t grow much facial hair but it doesn’t stop him from trying, thin and straight eyebrows





















♡coded by uxie♡
 
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WIP!!!​
















































  • Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed fringilla consectetur orci, non.












    appearance











    height

    answer






    weight

    answer






    hair c.

    answer






    eye c.

    answer












    hair styling

    Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.






    build

    Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.






    body mods.

    Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.






    faceclaim

    choi ye-won (arin)
















































♡coded by uxie♡

 
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chester finch
















everyone's favorite hater and resident shitposter














♡coded by uxie♡































𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓.



artist












CHESTER.















I.

Crying of Cicadas










name


Chester Finch.







a.k.a.


Ches if you're nasty.







age


Twenty-three.







Date of birth


August 1st.







gender & pronouns


Cismale, He/Him.







sexuality


Bisexual, masc leaning.







Degree


Accountancy (He hates it as much as it sounds)







occupation


Part-time editor for a sleazy playwright, full-time broke boy with expensive taste.













II.

Buzzing of Flies





H E I G H T
6'2"
H A I R C O L O R
Sandy blonde hair that he often keeps rather short, long enough to frame his face. There was a time when he rocked a shaggy look because he wanted to feel like Bowie. Yes, it was dumb child shit. no, he doesn't want to talk about it.
E Y E C O L O R
He insists his eyes are grey but with the time he spends in the shaded areas rather than the sunlight, everyone says they're black. They also probably tell him that to see him angry.
B U I LD
A gangly thing with large prescription glasses and a cigarette in his mouth—Chester is everything you expected of a young queer man attempting to make a name for himself in theatre. Some would call him towering, maybe even intimidating if it weren't for his scrawny frame. His bones lacked meat, soft hands gone red with the blistering unfamiliarity of a hard day’s work.
D I S T I N G U I S H I N G F E A T U R E S
Despite the pointless debate on his eye color, the windows to his snarky little soul are his most distinctive feature. Less for their grey-black tone and more for the constant *look* in them; the way they hold critical observation, boredom, and amusement all in one go. There's a contradiction of intensity and somberness that fester within the pits of his pupils. Other than that, well. he also has long ass fingers. But people seem to appreciate those.
W A R D R O B E
Mix the pristinely expensive clothing found in uptown and ratty charity shop garments in earth-tones and you got yourself Chester's closet. He enjoys the lavishness he once had but settles for the unique finds he could mangle now. More can be found here.
F A C E C L A I M
Charles de Vilmorin.









III.

Swarms of Moths





They say you can take the asshole out of the trust fund but you take the trust fund out of the asshole. Despite his abrupt change in lifestyle, Chester remained as pointed as any other high-brow nepotism baby. Cynical mind, silver tongue, and hedonistic eyes; if drama reared its ugly head, you know for a fact that Chester was a variable in the problem. An instigator without a sliver of strength in his punches to fight his own battles and a stubborn philosophy that brings him nothing but black eyes and scoffs of excuses.

It's almost like Chester Finch was born to make desert-dry commentary on the world around him. With the posture of nobility and a potty mouth of peasantry, he possesses the sharp tongue of any run-of-the-mill New Yorker. Despite having the entire English language to reference, he finds cusses and crudeness as the best means of expressing his thoughts. If he isn't muttering a string of words your mother wouldn't want to be hearing when he's in one of his "hissy fits", then that is an evil clone of Chester. Or a good clone depending on the way you see it.

Sure, Chester is a bit of a know-it-all. But if you had to go through years of private education with the additional extracurriculars down your throat, you'd want everyone else to suffer along with you. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree and as much as Chester hates to admit it, the urge to correct his friends when reading their thesis is genetic. However, his comparison to his mother and father doesn't make him any sort of parental friend figure—no. Far from it. Anyone who knows Chester would know that his upbringing has molded him into a hedonist; the enticement of a good time outweighs his rationality more often than not. The number of times Chester's peers had to chuck away his cigarette stash just to ensure he wouldn't smoke while being ill was beyond existing numbers. His ambitions and goals for greatness are probably what have been keeping him alive for this long.

May he be the defense, prosecution, or simply the gossip—Chester was the guy who knew everything and anything. In an 80s classic high school film, he would probably see himself as the head bitch with the big hair and the sparkly lipgloss but in reality, he was the annoying side character used for comedic relief. In a family show, he would be the middle-aged wine aunt; the one who'd pretend not to want to help the rest of the family out but secretly does care. And in a play, he's the playwright. Duh.

Being as prideful as he is, it's not a surprise that he holds a form of possessiveness toward those he associates with. In the dog-eat-dog world, he comes from, allies can be the difference between getting helped home after a night out or dead in a ditch. Even as he spits acid and pushes away friendly hugs, know that he's really a dog of bark than one of bite. Expressing love and care is difficult for him and middle-school teasing is his outlet. Deep down in his ratty heart, there's a good friend; a vulnerable man.

But hell will freeze over before he shows it.
P O S I T I V E
Witty ; Knowledgeable ; Rational (mostly) ; Observant ; Lives for shits and giggles.
N E G A T I V E
Moody ; Hedonistic ; Cynical ; Judgemental ; Sarcastic.
F E A R S
; Becoming his parents. That after his attempts to cut ties, change his life, and follow his passions, he'd end up where he started. That the path he's taking is just a phase and the passions he had would fizzle as fast as they lit. That he'll soon be middle-aged and dependant on the taste of wine to feel something that isn't bitterness. He fears proving his family right and that the predestined path he was given was the true path he'd end up taking in the end.

; He also doesn't fuck with insects. Especially the ones that can fly.
L I K E S
Night outs, theatre, "bullying" his peers, morning coffee ("the good shit, not that instant garbage"), smoking while looking out the window—plus points if it is raining.
D I S L I K E S
Judgment among his peers (he can dish it out, but can't take it), orange juice with the pulp, the cold & snow, the sound of his voice on recordings, Santa Claus.









IV.

Remains of Butterflies





— The Finch name was rooted in wealth. Everyone knew that. Generational wealth had built the cushy, lavish, penthouse on 5th Avenue that Chester called home. High ceilings, large windows, and beige walls; much like the penthouse, Mr. and Mrs. Finch were boring. Untouchable socialites in the New York scene yet lacked an ounce of "social" to them. Though none could really blame them as being the proprietors of a chain of national banks didn't ensure personality as it did money.

— Clarisse Finch's only personality trait was her bountiful shoe collection as a shopaholic "housewife". Despite her being anywhere but home. While Darius Finch saw the world like a dog: monochromatic. if he ever made a decision that wasn't for the sake of business and profit, he had probably been drinking too much. The two married because it was the most logical decision; there was no boogie dancing at a club or meet-cute at university. Darius' father pointed her out on the headline of a tabloid celebrating a pointless achievement for her rich family, and Darius was unphased at the prospect of calling her his wife. Their respondents took the rails by then and before he knew it, he was getting a fitting for a suit.

— There was a time Darius and Clarisse had loved each other, in their own peculiar way they still did. However, profession and ambition had always been the utmost priority for the two. The idea to have a child was less for the appeal of growing a family, rather gaining insurance for the future. Darius had proposed the prospects of a child the day he saw a single gray hair in the mass of blonde hair his wife had.

— Thus Chester was born. The only child as his parents found it pointless to bare another if they already had a son on the first try.

— Despite being the sole heir to a highly successful family business, the treasures the boy got from it were purely materialist. Chester's childhood wasn't graced with hugs from mother or playing catch with father. Don't ask him how it felt to have vacations with his family out of the country because all trips he made were with staff. Maybe just not ask him about his childhood at all. Because it was nannies as pseudo-parents, dinner alone on a long table, and boarding school by the 1st grade. It was a pathetic case of a little boy with all the toys in the world and no friend nor parent to show share them with. It was shit.

— Chester wouldn't recommend boarding school to even the kids of his worst enemies. The uniform itched and the food at the mess hall was often cold. People would think that a boarding school for nepotism babies would actually be fine but it wasn't. Every waking moment he wanted the world to eat him whole and every moment asleep, he wanted to stay that way. Chester was a teenager with a lot of parental issues—mommy, daddy, you name it. And mixing that with a secluded boarding school in the middle of Europe resulted in the moody grump you see now. The only pros Chester could remember were the freedom, the introduction to chainsmoking, and the theatre.

— Getting a gig as a playwright for his school's drama department started off as a joke. With his dipshit dormmates sending in some of his writing as a make-shift audition. However, the line between a joke and genuine passion quickly faded when he reluctantly accepted. Maybe it was the feeling of control and a growing god complex but for once, Chester felt... nice.

— What could possibly go wrong with a hobby?

—A lot can go wrong with a hobby.

— So much so that even after he managed to power through a full accountancy course, he found himself sending a formal fax to his parents politely entitled, "bye bitches", and promptly never returning home ever since. He got his response via his credit cards being frozen and brief fax back entitled "re: bye bitches" where his father's secretary concisely informed him that Darius and Clarisse Finch are disappointed by his actions and will be expecting his arrival soon. Basically, they didn't believe a career as a playwright could get him anywhere, especially when he no longer had the resources to give him the extra edge.

— The calm before the storm, Chester was fine. College proved to be insufferable but manageable with general electives being the only type of classes keeping him alive. (That and a lot of cigarette packs but he doesn't talk about it). He was just the hateful accountancy student, but what was new? Every accountancy student had pent-up rage within them, unhappy that their life's work was meant to be numbers and sheets. Chester was only lucky that he found a haven in an albeit sleazy playwright he edited for. to him, it was a sign that he could make it big if he tried.

— Thus in a matter of days, Chester was barely a finch. And in all honesty, he just couldn't find it in him to care. He felt like robert frost hiking up the road not taken, on a completely new trail that made him feel *something*. He craved the refreshing taste like an addict. So when his friends suggested a trip to the rural countryside, Chester quickly agreed.

— Now what could actually go wrong?

H E A D C A N O N S
— Despite his distaste for his course, he's actually very good at mental math. Call him a human calculator.
— He covers his face like a head smack to hide whenever he's laughing.
— A chronic eye-roller.
— Taps his fingers against surfaces when he's in one place.
— Also a foot tapper.
— The most variety of expressions you'll see from him is when he's reading.
— Sticking out his tongue whenever he's being "attacked".









V.

The Face of A Spider
































♡coded by uxie♡
 
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p






santo calles






























♡coded by uxie♡



















SANTO CALLES
the silent drummer



















  • .












[/tab]




I owe you a black eye and two kisses —

NAME: Santo Alejandro Calles
NICKNAME: Santo Alejo (a Birdie-ism), Saint
D.O.B: March 15th
AGE: Twenty-Five
GENDER: transmasc; he/him
ORIENTATION: femme-leaning bisexual

MAJOR: Journalism
OCCUPATION: Stock Manager at Yafa Grocery, a bodega down the street from his dorm; trying to build up his photography portfolio so he can apply to LIFE magazine

APPEARANCE: A mop of scraggly, yet trimmed mocha hair that flops in front of his eyes when he's working on his bike or fiddling with something to occupy his hands. Typically dressed in a cropped leather or a pair of loose-fitting bellbottoms, Santo exudes a boyish charm with a shit-eating grin that is only befitting on him. A quiet elegance twists up his corded arms and across his narrow shoulders. Smelling of automobile grease, Marlboro Reds, and mint julep tea, he moves with murmurs and the slight scrape of rough hands against raw textiles. Coming from a family of towering giants, he comes to approximately 5 feet, 11 inches, adding a domineering quality to his downturned, Roman nose. Still, when a sleepy grin cracks across his face, everything softens — from his earthy smell, his stained hands, the spark in his brown eyes, etc.
Note: Benicio Del Toro is used as a reference for Santo's appearance, but due to Santo being transmasc, I didn't feel it was appropriate to use him as a full-on faceclaim.

PERSONALITY: Blessed with a golden tongue, the boy is good with more than just his hands. There is always a sense of control to Santo's movements, even the way in which he forms certain letters or spits out certain words. Solitary by nature but desiring to feel connected in a terminal sorta way, he tends to construct stories about people based on assumptions made in the first few seconds with them. Yet, he keeps talking, ever desiring to get to know someone a bit more, to keep them engaged long enough for him to test his hypothesis. He sees this as a posit, but you are more than welcome to find issue with it, especially if you are on the receiving end and misconstrue his curiosity for affection. It is, in a way, affection, but when asked, he will deny, deny, deny. There is a controlled nature to everything Santo Alejo does, and he remains unknowable by most, despite his petulant inquiries and the disarming way in which he can surpass certain boundaries. A quick smile, a witty slip-of-the-tongue, and perhaps you are fooled by him just enough to answer all-too-honestly.

HABITS:
— carries around a Nikon camera and at least two disposables
— penchant for smoking marlboro reds
— keeps on hand a bunch of quarters to make calls to his sister Aleja on pay phones; his pants constantly jingle
— plays with the ends of his hair, which is usually all over the place or in a ducktail
— always jingling his keys
— can’t keep still
— tends to go through his own depressive episodes

WHAT'S THEIR GREATEST FEAR?: One might be fooled into thinking Santo is fearless, and he would prefer this notion. However, a man with the virtue of courage cannot exist without fear, so his are as follows: having to face any member of his family, forgetting family recipes and other important memories and traditions (especially by way of dementia, an illness that he watched grip his abuela prior to her passing), developing any illnesses found within his family, aging, running into law enforcement or any other figures of authority, repeating mistakes, failure to live as himself, and horses.

HISTORY:
— Born in 1961 to Camilla and Sergio Calles. Fourth amongst a line-up of six. Has three older brothers (Angelo, Omar, and Pedro) and two younger sisters (Alejandra, for who he chose his middle name after, and Fernanda or Fern). Grows up in Argyle, Washington, which is a fictional town just outside of Olympia.

— Grows up in a semi-hippie household. Sergio was a long-time friend and fellow bandmate of Winston Gish-Sato, resulting in the two families often hosting parties, attending concerts, etc. together. This results in Gish-Sato's only daughter, Birdie, and Santo becoming childhood friends. The pair grow up together, with Aleja also becoming a close, yet peripheral friend amongst them. While the Gish-Satos tended to move around, they always would come back to Argyle with the Calles sometimes following the other family when able to. Given Camilla was a nurse, this was not very common, but Sergio's occupations as a mechanic and electrician allowed them to sometimes support these moves with a single salary.

— While living briefly in Georgia when Santo was fourteen, Sergio is arrested and charged for drug-related killings. Clearly profiled, Camilla contacted the ACLU, who took on his case pro-bono. Using his political history against him①, the prosecution convinced the jury of his guilt despite Sergio's prints not matching the ones found on the pistol discovered at the scene. Ultimately, he was sentenced to the highest degree. Now on death row, he has been trying to appeal his sentence for the better part of the past decade, and Santo has plans to use some of his time in Talon's Cross to visit his father and assist in making his case publicly recognized so that his father might be acquitted.

— Following his imprisonment, Camilla slumped into a depression that she did not recover from. Angelo, who was twenty-two at the time, took up the helm as the breadwinner, with Omar dropped out of high school to find employment. Pedro went to the University of California, and Santo was placed in charge of raising Aleja and Fernie. When he had the time, Santo, Birdie, and co. would drive into Olympia and sneak into the theater or Scruffy's, the bar that would ultimately be their local haunt and where Birdie would meet her late partner, Jac. During this time, Santo committed fully to a serial dating phase, necking with boys in the backs of their cars while Jac and Birdie ran off to wherever they went to. Taking on the role of the familial comedian, he was often the butt of the joke, along with being criticized for his lack of responsibility. His older brothers also began to worry about Santo's more masculine interests, insisting that he should worry about finding a nice boy to take care of him if he wasn't going to apply himself in school. By junior year, Santo was determined to go to university if only to avoid what he thought was the worser options of the two.

— It was also during junior year that Santo learned about the nature of Jac and Birdie's relationship, resulting in a bit of self-growth. While he was admittedly unenthused at first, Birdie got him back on the straight and narrow (rather, her absence in his life got him back on the straight and narrow), and he was able to learn about via the Gish-Sato family about a host of identities beyond the one he thought he was boxed into. In many ways, he still maintains the idea that his family and genes are what define him (after all, he falls into his own slumps much like his mother, and he is not ignorant to the circumstances of his father). However, during this phase of his life, he finally gained the resources and language necessary to describe himself, and he carried on the Calles tradition that Sergio started: Santo began to break down the boxes that defined him. It was during this time that he began frequent letter correspondence with his father and showed an interest in photography, which he used to track his father's life story. Additionally, he showed an interest in the burgeoning queer scene in NYC, planting the seed for what was to come. By senior year, he was aware of his identity as a transman and had plans to pursue a journalism degree at NYU.

— While he adored his family, cared deeply about the caretaking of his siblings and the wellbeing of his mother, he also knew there was no idea amongst them that Santo would leave. It was an unheard of idea. In fact, his older brothers were at a point where they expected Santo, as a femme-presenting person at the time, to nurture their mother once he graduated. There was little room for rebuttal, and Santo felt lonelier as a result. Not even Aleja could understand. During his last year in high school, Santo joined the school newspaper and built enough of a portfolio to impress the Admissions board of NYU, but when news of this reached Angel and the others, Santo was told directly that he would not be going to university. When graduation came and left, Birdie was set to go to NYU, despite the grief that wracked her following Jac's death. Santo was not going with her.

— In June of that year, he received a letter from his father that had been postmarked in April. Given he had not heard from Sergio in months, he was shocked to check the mail box and find the letter had been sent so long ago, and upon reading it, he had a renewed passion. His father, supportive as ever despite the years waning on him, was overjoyed to hear that another one of his kids would be attending university, and he remarked that Santo could bring attention to people like his father, to the laws, executive orders, prejudices, and mentalities that made situations like his father's possible, etc. Suffice to say, Santo concocted a plan of manifestation. His stubbornness and the Calles tradition of taking no shit carried on through him. He concocted a rebirth, of sorts. Collecting the information necessary to file his FAFSA in the coming year, he left on his bike on an early August morning, planning to follow his favorite band on tour, visit his father for the first time since they left Georgia and then to head to the city where he'd apply to NYU, get in, pay for it somehow, and — well he didn't quite know what came after, but he suspected it felt a lot like winning a game of hoops against Omar. It was only Aleja who had seen him go, resulting in an argument on that morning that would come to define their entire dynamic for the rest of their lives.

— Some may find Santo's callousness regarding his casual leaving of his family cruel, and he is the first one to admit this. Guilt over this decision sticks with him during every phone call he makes home, and it is no surprise that his brothers will not speak to him. Aleja is the only one he is open to about his transition, though he suspects that Angelo and his mother know given Santo reflexively speaks with a lower baritone now and refuses to send any photos of himself. Supposedly, his mother has been doing since Santo mailed home a photo he took of Sergio during his visit with him, and she writes letters to both Santo and Sergio. Overall, there was a wake call that was forced by Santo's leaving, or so Aleja tells him.

— Presently, he's employed as a cashier and stock manager at Yafa Grocery, a bodega on the corner down the street from his dorm. He has done well in university, albeit struggling to maintain his grades given he works two jobs, is a bassist in a band with Birdie called Toilet Bowl, and organizing protests and assisting with ACT-UP's awareness campaigns for the AIDS crisis. Beyond leaving his family behind in Argyle, it has weighed heavily on him that his father's appeal was denied, which partially is why, with graduate, he is excited and motivated to bring public discourse to his father's case and prove his innocence.

① Sergio Calles was arrested on two separate occasions, albeit none resulted in jail time served. The first was on June 23rd, 1967 in Los Angeles, where he attended a protest on the Vietnam War and President Johnson's arrival at the Century Plaza Hotel. The second was during 1968 when he attended the Chicago anti-war protest that resulted in the trial of the Chicago Seven. He was let go since he did not commit any violence and he told the officer who apprehended him and Winston Gish-Sato that they were both veterans, resulting in some amount of ill-timed sympathy. Given the officer did not investigate Sergio's record about his past involvement in the L.A. protest of '67, Sergio avoided even being brought down to the station. He did not attend any more protests after this at the request of his wife.

HEADCANONS:
— has owned a ball python snake since he was fifteen. Her name is Penny, and she's currently being left with Birdie, his best friend.
— his favorite book is The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
— has had his name legally changed; prior to he went to the courthouse in upstate NY and sweet-talked the county clerk into filing for the name change. He had already been socially transitioned at this point, so he told her that he was a twin and that his mother had filed the birth certificates wrong. She believed him, and now most people are none-the-wiser, including the school board at NYU, the federal government who reissued his social security card, etc.
— a lil bit of a speed-demon and part-time mechanic; he took a few classes in high school before he figured out that he was hiding who he was; owns a motorcycle and works on it pretty frequently
— Jacqueline's passing during his and Birdie's senior year is also a reason for his very sudden leaving.
— is not a serial dater in the present, though he does tend to have very short relationships and even shorter infatuations. It is rare that he acts on these infatuations, though, and many of them are his idealizations of a friend or a random person that comes into Yafa Grocery.

A GENERAL NOTE: While I have incorporated historically relevant facets to Santo's story, I want to make it clear that I do not intend to roleplay these prejudices in-character. Much of Santo's story is about overcoming the guilt that he has carried with him, and I would rather focus on the horror elements and perhaps how those elements correlate to his fears and his personal journey. Still, I understand that WTCG may be the type of historical fiction that would rather leave the unsavory bits of the period to the side, and if that is the case, then I am happy to make edits because, ultimately, Santo's story is about him embracing himself without fear, independent of 20th century history.







/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
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━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ INERTIA .ᐟ
















ANDREA KIDMAN.




BY LISBETH . . .










Coded by Uxie.

































... Doomed.



Bring Me The Horizon.












INERTIA.















I.

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ De Secreto.










‘ ⠀ You're all vampires,⠀so here,⠀
you can have my⠀HEART. ⠀ ’







FULL NAME.


Andrea Sofie Ivalu Kidman.







NICKNAME(S).


Andy, Furore, Kidman, Half-Pint, Mouse.







AGE.


Twenty-five years old (16th August).







GENDER.


Unlabelled; she/her, they/them.







SEXUALITY.


Homoromantic homosexual.







ETHNICITY.


Her father is of Danish descent; her mother is of Greenlandic and Danish descent.







OCCUPATION.


Retail assistant and animal shelter volunteer.







DEGREE.


Associate's degree in veterinary technology.













II.

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ AD SUPERFICIEM.










HAIR.


Her hair resembles the aftermath of a little girl playing hairdresser with her doll. It's raven black and cut as short as a fuse, not even so much as tickling her shoulders when let down, with either side underneath shaved to the skin.







EYES.


Slate blue and wears a permanent goggle-eyed expression, as if she has witnessed an unimaginable horror.







COMPLEXION.


She looks like death warmed up, with natural pallor skin, deep purple, and red bags of skin underneath her eyes—giving her what looks like natural eye-shadow—, high cheekbones, and concave cheeks; the pinkish tinge of joy intermittently emerging on her cheeks.







BUILD.


An overactive metabolism and inattentive dietary choices have caused an undeveloped physique. At 5’2” (157CM) and 107LBS (48KG), she has angular shoulders that slump forward, narrow wrists, and bony hips; her rail-thin limbs and untamed, darting movements almost resemble a daddy long-legs.







BODY MODIFICATION(S).


Bleached eyebrows, alongside piercings through her right eyebrow, the right side of her lip, septum, navel, both earlobes, and left nostril—each one decked with silver jewellery; a dulled, self-inflicted tattoo of the phrase, “Follow the white rabbit” wrapping around her left forearm, and a tattoo on her right bicep of Malcolm Browne’s photograph of the self-immolation of Thích Quảng Đức.







WARDROBE.


Her clothing has always been a safeguard without the physical need of speech, though the irony of dark clothing is in the attention it picks up. Everything is varying, sombre tones of black or grey, and she habitually wears a child’s sized, distressed tank top; graphic short-sleeved and long-sleeved tops—the printed designs would surely make a Christian Texan mother’s blood curdle—; over-the-top or zip up hooded sweatshirts; further layered by a studded leather biker jacket; and low-waisted slim fit jeans stuffed into moth-eaten combat boots.







FACE CLAIM.


Rooney Mara in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.













III.

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ SAPERE AUDE.












There is a considerable difference between being alone and feeling lonely, the difference between content and yearning. Andy has never felt particularly attracted to society and indeed has less of a disposition for being a part of it; notwithstanding, there are indeed moments of desire for relations (as few as they may be), but they are as fleeting as an intrusive thought—never attaching herself to it and continuing life thereafter, as if she had zoned out. The comfort of their own company is not necessarily out of their own volition, but a more defeated acceptance stemming from their ineptitude to relate to those around them; Andy simply isn’t there, and if asked about it, would liken it to being a GHOST.

Such an introverted and asocial mien conflates Andy as disrespectful and ill-mannered. Yet talking with her about genuine interests—hers or otherwise—uncloaks a surprisingly avid and open extroversion. Although, perhaps from time to time she is too plain-speaking for her own good; when someone asks you for the truth, you don’t give them an even-handed outlook; you give them what they want as the truth. The artificial methods of neurotypical society are something she has ostensibly accepted (to, if nothing else, provide for herself and her mother) for the time being, but has no intention of employing them to her life.

Inevitably, it has occurred to her that: why would an employer hire somebody such as herself, when they could, hell, hire an inebriate who is out of the game by eight in the evening with vomit trickling down his favourite football jersey, seated in a dilapidated armchair, but can see to every area of work with no sweat. The reason being that most people who can handle every area of work will conduct it with mediocrity. But if appointed a task befitted to her, Andy has a clear-cut imagination and almost sheer magical ability to compile information, reports, and etcetera, from nowhere in half the time it may take thrice the number of people. Her way of working isn’t always conventional, but it yields results far exceeding expectations.







POSITIVE TRAIT(S).


Serious-minded, individualistic, principled, reflective, self-aware, thorough, methodical, diplomatic.







NEGATIVE TRAIT(S).


Mistrustful, perfectionist, aloof, tense, resentful, pedantic, self-doubting, guarded.







FEAR(S).


Failure to achieve her idea of fulfilment in life; relenting to the ideals and standards of general society; forever lacking a solid support system.







AILMENT(S) & CONDITION(S).


Autism spectrum disorder (ASD), iron deficiency anaemia, clinical depression, nicotine dependence, pollen allergy.













IV.

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ NOS IN DIEM VIVUMUS.












TW: Mention of suicide and death.

Andrea Sofie Ivalu Kidman (born 16th August 1996) was the youngest of three, five years her brother and sister’s (Victor and Karla, who were fraternal twins) junior. They originally lived with their mother, Alma Kidman, and father, Malthe Kidman, in an impoverished suburb on the outskirts of Copenhagen—living off food stamps and private insurance fund reaped benefits—before moving to the city Odense by the time Andy was four years old, when her mother was fit to work again after having given birth to three children.

Soon after the twins turned nineteen, Victor, who had been diagnosed with schizophrenia the preceding year, overdosed, and drowned in the bathtub of their house. His death shattered the family like a bullet through glass.

Death was not a particularly foreign concept, but unaccustomed to Andy nonetheless; except for when she had a pet goldfish at four years old—as a celebratory present to comfort her in their new home—and overfed it on accident, but her mother urged it was sleeping and flushed it down the toilet with the promise of returning it to the deep blue.

Yet she hadn’t cried then, and she didn’t cry now. Although, an overpowering sorrow encased her—a rage rather than sadness. One she never learned how to express.

When he was of legal drinking age, Malthe (whose father had been a vicious, splenetic drunkard) had vowed an oath to himself to never even so much as sniff a glass of liquor—the Devil’s Piss, he would always call it. After Victor’s death, Malthe began drinking like a horse, eventually drinking himself to death two years afterwards.

Karla had already moved to a university in the United States by this point. And Alma, now without a husband and son, became reclusive—seldom leaving their house aside from buying essential items when Andy wasn’t available—with Andy tending to her as a helper, halting her life for the following years until eventually joining her sister.







RELATIONSHIP(S).


ALMA KIDMAN.
[ Mother, fifty-five years old, alive. ]

MALTHE KIDMAN.
[ Father, passed away at forty-six years old; cardiac arrest. ]

VICTOR KIDMAN
[ Brother, passed away at nineteen years old; suicide. ]

KARLA NADEAU.
[ Sister, thirty years old, alive. ]













V.

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ Galeria.
































Coded by Uxie & Image PSD by Avenoirpsd.
 
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Zoey Calvert




















# erin kellyman










♡coded by uxie♡


































title



artist












Zoey















R

equisite.










name


Zoey Calvert







Nicknames


Zo, Calvin







age


Twenty-two







date of birth


December 5th







gender & pronouns


Female, she/her







sexuality


Bisexual, semi-closeted







degree


Mechanical Engineering













A

ppearance.










hair


Having inherited her mother’s distinctive red shade and father’s coils, Zoey’s thick hair is typically left to float down below her shoulders, her face sometimes seeming to hide behind its cloud-like volume. Zoey has a few times throughout her life experimented with various styles, but she prefers it being left natural.







skin


Zoey’s skin is a light brown, and dotted with a dense arrangement of freckles, most concentrated across her nose and cheeks. She has a couple acne scars and markings on her skin, largely from scratching or picking at cuts.







body/build


Standing at 5’3, Zoey’s stature often makes her seem even shorter than she is, between a quiet energy, often slouched shoulders, and a thin frame. She has no visible muscles, with the exception of defined legs from running, overall a rather small girl.







distinguishing features


Zoey’s most distinguishing feature is her hair, due both to its volume and uncommon coloring, and the amount of freckles on her. Someone uncomfortable with much attention, she doesn’t have much she’d made noticeable about herself, but she has a belly button piercing she usually keeps covered.







wardrobe


Zoey finds herself almost always cold, and so almost always with a layer more than necessary on her. She often chooses to dress in dull colors, grey toned blues and greens and blacks. Her outfits often consist of a tank top under a shirt under a jacket or sweater. She has a tendency towards wearing runners as much as she can. Zoey doesn’t wear jewelry and tends not to accessorize without function to it.







face claim


Erin Kellyman













P

ersona.










personality


Zoey always dreamed of being a hero. This was a natural trait of a child, especially a reader, especially one latched onto it as early as Zoey did. The earliest stories she remembers are fairy tales, magic and wonder and full of the promise of being special. She didn’t have to be a hero specifically, of course. A knight, or a princess, or a dragon, or even a witch would do. Just something, really, so long as she was remembered. So long as she caught a taste of adventure.

It was a slow realization the real world didn’t work the way stories did. And sometimes it felt like that held doubly true for her. Zoey was always quiet, a trait that for much of her youth was dismissed as just shyness, never quite given examination into why being asked to speak first caused her to freeze up the way she did, why the world seemed difficult to her the way it did.

Zoey still finds approaching others difficult, and is firmly an introvert, but knows she enjoys having others to spend company with, and a touch of awkwardness now poses more of a challenge than her shyness does. Having found friends and connections in both high school and university, she’s not willing to go back to being a loner, with whatever effort it takes. With that said, social skills have never been a strong suit of hers, often tripping over her own words or rethinking a sentence halfway through it. Despite her kindness and genuineness, there have only been a handful of people throughout Zoey’s life she’s been comfortable enough around to consider friends.

Consuming knowledge seems to have always been second nature to Zoey. From stories and reading as a child to enjoying spending time at school, being taught anything new. Zoey’s lost count how many times she’s been asked what kind of kid likes to do math. Always giving a hundred and ten percent effort to homework assignments and having the most elaborate calendar planner in her class, Zoey was always a good student. That quality truly started to shine when Zoey left to attend college, suddenly thrust into classes that seemed designed for her, where everyone chose what they were taught and it suddenly became the norm to love the subject. Learning felt natural to Zoey, perhaps easy, and was a safety net she fell into with little question when it became time to choose her life path past high school.

More than just being good at memorizing facts, Zoey started writing when she was a young teenager, the exact age having long slipped from her mind. She’s spent countless hours on the hobby, from just creating characters to short stories to the occasional attempt at longer projects. Despite the freedom Zoey finds in it, her writing is one of her largest secrets, shared with only a handful of others.

Zoey’s preparation and need to stay on top of everything in her life stems from more than just academic ambition. Of everyone she knows, Zoey likely worries the most, about just about anything she has the chance to. Any situation she’s in constantly has the potential to go horribly wrong, and Zoey is constantly thinking about it. She’s often teased for being jumpy, reacting to most unexpected noises, and was once told she’d be terrible to watch horror movies with. She didn’t mind, not particularly liking them in the first place, but Zoey being vividly aware of being anxious did just about nothing to change the fact.

One of the few things that gave her a moment of relief, a moment of her mind not being stuck in thought was running. It was something she did mostly recreationally, her method of keeping active, although she competed on the track team for two years in middle school. The movement, the feeling of wind against her face, the heat and sensation in her muscles gave her– would it be paradoxical to say the tiredness was the best respite Zoey’s ever had? It was the only physical activity Zoey’s ever taken to, being almost comically unable to lift anything heavy and too worried about disappointing teammates to lose herself in team sports in the same way, but it was one of the few things Zoey took pride in doing.







positive traits


Much of Zoey’s virtue lies in her intelligence, being a sharp thinker and someone filled with curiosity. Her academics have always been high on her list of priorities, leaving her one of the strongest in her class on top of being reasonably knowledgeable in several areas. Zoey’s also a fundamentally kind person, genuinely wanting to help the world around her and rarely one to refuse to give her aid, and often quick to forgive.







negative traits


Zoey’s quiet personality often leaves her a bit of a pushover, struggling to say no to others or speak her mind even when she knows what she wants to say. On top of that, Zoey’s anxiety leaves her an overthinker, worrying about any situation beyond a reasonable amount, and often projecting that onto those around her. She struggles to have much confidence in herself.







fears


Zoey's largest fear is losing her friends and the sense of community she's found. She knows she's not good at being alone, and is terrified that's how she'll end up, unable to maintain any of her connections and left by herself. She's also very scared of failure, as she doesn't have much of a backup plan for her life, and doesn't know what she'd do if things were to not go according to her plan. Zoey has tied a lot of her own self worth to her successes.

Zoey's very easy to spook, however, and has no shortage of smaller fears, including public speech, being forgotten or unaccomplished, bugs, but less so the actual bugs and more the possibility of their presence, and driving, and is very susceptible to jump scares and horror movies.













h

istory.





Zoey’s father met her mother on a business trip to England. Whenever Zoey was told about it, it sounded just like something out of a love story. A chance meeting turning out to be some sort of true love, her mother leaving her home country to be with her father without a second doubt. Zoey didn’t think she’d be capable of making such a life changing decision like that, but her parents did. They got married within six months, and several years and two moves later, ended up in Canada, where Zoey was born.

Zoey’s childhood was nothing exceptional. She was a bit of an outcast most of her elementary and middle school years, always a little different from her peers, one of the ones who stood out on yearbook pictures. She was quiet right from the start of her life, mostly left to herself, but between two years on her school track team and a couple science fairs not entirely unknown.

It wasn’t until high school that Zoey got a sense of belonging, meeting her two then best friends, Blaise and Amy, and settled into a group with them. She experimented with her style and appearance, with the possibility of being someone in her own right, and started to feel like her grades might be worth something. It was in high school, too, that she realized she was different in more ways than just one, with the way Amy made her feel. She knew it was reciprocated, too, but Zoey was never able to act on the attraction, come forward with it, leaving their relationship largely undefined. At the time, all Zoey could focus on was keeping what she had found, not adding to it. The three years, however, slipped through her fingers like sand, until she was left faced with college offers and decisions that felt like the weight of many mountains over.

Leaving home was the most terrifying decision she’d ever made and most challenging action she’d taken. Choosing a major was easy; she liked math, she was good at math, engineering was just something she had the ability for. Living away from home the first few months, on the other hand, was not easy. It wasn’t entirely back to being alone; university dorms helped, a lot, and Zoey settled into a state of kind of being, repeating the same actions, class and homework and sleep, a stability she couldn’t quite call content but maybe was as successful as she could ask for. She visited home every summer, but, it was never really the same back there, and her connection to her hometown friends grew more and more distant. With the four years of her degree, she found new friends, comfort in being where she was, and despite typically not being the largest fan of travel, was looking forward to the trip they had planned. She’d made it to graduation, after all, and wasn’t that something to celebrate?









g

allery.
































♡coded by uxie♡
 
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the "former" nerd















scroll

bobbie



mcbride




ㅎㅎ














01.

full name




roberta-jean mcbride







02.

nicknames




bobbie, dweeb, whatever else








03.

age




22







04.

gender




cis-female








05.

sexuality




homosexual heterosexual







07.

date of birth




january 23rd







08.

place of birth




Akron, ohio




































  • the eye of the storm



    you don't have to be like everybody else
    you are not here to conform













♡coded by uxie♡
 
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lewis john bonovich
















i don't like this feeling, like something bad will happen . . .














♡coded by uxie♡



 















































  • the kind you don’t take home to mother..












    appearance











    height

    5’6”






    weight

    122 lbs






    hair c.

    blonde






    eye c.

    grey












    hair styling

    Chopped haphazardly and bleached to within an inch of its life, Eden’s hair has been through it. The shag she sports now is courtesy her little brother, who thought it’d be funny to stick gum in her hair while she napped on the couch. She doesn’t mind the new look, though—she thinks it looks pretty metal. Needless to say, after all it’s endured, Eden’s hair, despite having a silky appearance, doesn’t have the best texture. It’s dry and a bit brittle to the touch—something that could easily be remedied with a good and thorough conditioning, but she hasn’t found it within herself to care enough to go to such lengths.






    build

    5’6” is a fairly average height for girls, but something about Eden screams “tall.” Maybe it’s her runner’s build—all long, lithe limbs—or maybe it’s the confident way with which she carries herself. Regardless, there’s something oddly intimidating about her, scary reputation aside.






    body mods.

    In addition to the standard lobe piercings, like any rebellious young adult, Eden has an array of small tattoos across her body. Perhaps the only one that is regularly visible is the one of a small broken mirror on the inside of her left arm.






    wardrobe

    While Eden is a big fan of ripped denim and distressed leather, she’s just as likely to wear a long, flowing skirt with layered band tees. Anything is fair game with her, as long as it fits into the dark color scheme she’s dubbed as her aesthetic of choice.






    faceclaim

    Sophie Thatcher
















































♡coded by uxie♡

 
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maggie foster
















do you hear that? whispers dance in the wind.














♡coded by uxie♡

































Look closer.



artist












MAGGIE.















I.

The Earth Does Bright.










name


Margaret Foster.







a.k.a.


Maggie.







age


Twenty-Two.







Date of Birth


October 31st.







gender & pronouns


Cisfemale | She/Her/Hers.







sexuality


Bisexual.







Degree


BFA in Creative Writing







occupation


Barista (soul sucking as it sounds).













II.

Daughter of Silent Watching Stones





H E I G H T
5'4

H A I R C O L O R
Brown unruly locks that would often fluff up in the humid summers back home. When she puts in the efforts to maintain the fussy main, soft waves fall down her shoulders and her back. Although, mostly, she insists on keeping it up.

E Y E C O L O R
Her mother once called her eyes a burst of green kaleidoscope but Maggie is at the opinion they are just plain green. No frills needed.

B U I L D
For someone that spends most of their time hunched over a computer at a public library, Maggie is a relatively healthy individual. Average stature. Average height. Nothing extraordinary about her build.

D I S T I N G U I S H I N G F E A T U R E S
Expressionless faces aren't always devoid of emotion. Whoever said eyes are the windows to the soul hit the nail on the head. Constantly curious, constantly flickering, always eager to expose her deepest, darkest emotions, Maggie's secrets are held in her kaleidoscope eyes.

F A C E C L A I M
Havana Rose Liu









III.

Witness Me.





P E R S O N A L I T Y

Strange. Strange. And more strange. Maggie wouldn't know how to describe herself if asked, but her brother swears she is from another planet. Preferring to spend time alone with pen and ink, or perhaps hunched over a desk pinning bugs to a board, her often apathetic disposition and odd way of speaking often deters others from drawing close to the woman. But when you have the mind of a creative monster genius, it is difficult to allow others near. She sleeps very little, and is easily swayed into self destructive patterns, although she still manages to survive each and every day. All those 8AMs? Yeah, she was there ten minutes early. Somehow. With her feverish and often graphic and gruesome imagination, her unquenchable thirst for writing fuels everything she does. The air she breaths in only in service of her hands to write and her mind to think of artful, profound statements. Despite her introversion, Maggie strives for greatness and wishes to be remembered. Though she is lacking of any charisma or charm, she desperately wishes to make her mark on others.

F E A R S

○ HEIGHTS | For someone that went to school in a city of skyscrapers, Maggie absolutely HATES being up high. Maybe it was the result of falling from the top of a magnolia tree when she was 12, or something else but she refuses to go any higher than a fifth floor. She also absolutely will not take an elevator anywhere.

○ SNAKES | Growing up, Maggie was surrounded by rivers, streams, and deep forests full of little hiding places. Water moccasins, cottonmouths, copperheads-- A whole plethora of slithery devils waiting to kill you. Her father has killed a few too many snakes with a shovel for her tastes. The imagine of a headless, slithering snake body is burned into her memory like an television screen from rewatching the same movie too many times.

○ SPIDERS | Much like her aversion to snakes, her grandmothers house was filled with brown recluses hiding in every corner, especially during the winter. One time, she stepped on one and it felt like a million babies burst from the smashed brown recluse corpse.









IV.

Stars Hurl All Their Fundament





Mentone was a sleepy town, quiet, unbothered, and serene. Located in rural Alabama, tucked away on top of Lookout Mountain, situated close to Little River Falls off the West Fork, the small community consisted of farmers, and general store owners, it was a town where everyone knew everyone. Church was a place to gossip about new folks, trips to the general store were a high necessity, and the town boasted a look into the back, seeming more like a town from the 1880s instead of the 1980s. And so it was, the Foster family moved into the community and desperately attempted to fit. Micheal Foster was the son of an ironworker who grew up in Birmingham. After acquiring land from his late Uncle, he packed his family up, invested all his money in crops, and moved out to Mentone where he'd grown up and where his Mother still lived.
Maggie was a surprise baby, born on Halloween, but loved unconditionally and wholly nonetheless. The new parents took great caution with their first child, oftentimes treating the baby as if she were a piece of glass. Maggie, however, did not treat herself as though she were glass. The toddler was adventurous, curious, and incredibly clumsy. As a result, she was an accident prone child. Bumping into walls, tables, anything… By the time she was three, and the time her brother was born, the Foster’s had baby proof the entire house with bubble wrap and baby gates. Maggie was a strange child and an even stranger older sister. The natural responsibility that came with being an older sister didn't come to the girl. Instead, she became much more reserved, perhaps jealous of the attention her younger brother received. As such, she spent far more time with her grandmother, tucked away on her acres of land exploring endless forests, collecting frogs, caterpillars, and spending hot summer days submerged in the stream to the side of her house.

With two children and a more clear sense of parenthood, Lydia and Micheal juggled parenthood and work well. Between the two of them, Micah and Maggie were loved and cared for. Micah cried a lot. Maggie spent a lot of time with her grandmother. And spent a lot of time with her grandmother's neighbors daughter. The two girls The two girls did everything under the sun. Playing sword fights, building forts, running through the forest collecting rocks and sticks, and reading together. They quickly became best friends. Not without younger brother Micah tagging along when he was old enough, always under Maggie's skin. It was a wonder Maggie even got along with someone and now her idiot brother was trying to steal her friend? The resentment she felt towards her brother quickly turned to estrangement when her mother got into the car accident. It was an accident, of course. Micah distracted his mother for a second too long and before they knew it, they were flipping. Over. And over. And over. But it was his fault. And Maggie knew it in her heart.

Although their father, Micheal attempted to provide a happy home, it was anything but happy. Turbulent and combative most of the time, the two Foster siblings were more enemies than brother and sister. Micah hated his sister for blaming him. Maggie hated her brother for killing their mom. And as the years continued, the distance only increased. When Maggie turned fourteen, she moved in with her grandmother, getting as far away from Micah as was possible in such a small town. She took to reading and writing, expressing her grief and anger towards her brother through sharp pen strokes to the paper. At her grandmother's house, she found her Aunt's collection of poetry. Walt Whitman. T.S Elliot. Sylvia Plath. Langston Hughes. Any great American poet was readily available in her collection and Maggie knew it would set her on fire.

And so it did, introducing the young woman to a whole knew way of writing and reading and perceiving the world. It was during this time that she took up bug collection-- insect taxidermy. The creatures of Mentone were beautiful and deserved to be displayed. Butterflies, moths, beetles. All tiny bodies pined to board and framed, on display in her room. And when she got older, that hobby turned into an art form, combining insect taxidermy with poetry.

Her aspirations to be a creative writer took her to applying to the great schools, renowned for their programs. Columbia, Langston Hughes alma mater. Harvard, where T.S Elliot received his degree. Sylvia Plath attended Boston University. Eventually, though, after a hefty scholarship and a promise of a pristine creative writing program, Maggie settled on New York University.

It was a peculiar four years. The city was unlike anything Maggie ever experienced. It was far from Mentone, far from the little town where everyone knew everything. It was big. It was intimidating. But it was creative fodder that would fuel her for her entire degree. Away from religion, away from small town politics, Maggie began to bloom as an artist and a person. 900 miles away from her brother, and while she still kept her reclusive and strange nature, there were others that found solace and companionship in the writer. That and drugs and alcohol made a person a bit more tolerable to certain things. She wrote like she was running out of time, desperate to use the high of creativity to propel her forward and away from returning to the same life her father lived.









V.

Bug Collector
































♡coded by uxie♡
 
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